“She most certainly did not! Should she have? Were they together? Why did she not speak of him? Is this something I could use to discredit my father?” Harihn’s questions tumbled over each other in his eagerness.
So that was it! Aurian fought to suppress her relief. If she handled this right . . . She assumed what she hoped was a shocked expression. “I’m not surprised she didn’t mention Anvar to the Khisihn. She’s his concubine. That’s why she wants me dead, Harihn—in case I betray her secret! Of course if poor Anvar is dead, it won’t make any difference, but if he’s still alive, it would put your father in a very embarrassing position.”
The Prince let out a whoop of triumphant laughter. “Ah!” he said. “You are repaying my investment already! I wondered, when I rescued you, if you two knew one another. Two outland-ers arriving so close together was too much of a coincidence. I wonder what my father will say when he hears that his precious new Khisihn is another man’s concubine!”
Aurian sighed. What an innocent! “Sara will say that I’m lying, or that you are lying, and the Khisu will believe her of course, and then we’ll both be in trouble,” she said flatly, and Harihn’s face fell. “What you need is proof,” Aurian urged him. “If you could only find Anvar . . .”
The Prince’s face lit up. “By the Reaper, Lady, but you are clever! I never would have thought of that. What a pity that you are a foreign sorceress. You would make a far better Khisihn than that she-jackal of my father’s. You are worth your weight in the treasures of the desert!” It seemed an odd sort of compliment, but Aurian let it pass. Harihn leapt to his feet. “I will send a man down to the docks at once—the trail should start there, if anywhere.”
“Harihn, I don’t know how to thank you,” Aurian told him, in an excess of relief. “As soon as I’m on my feet, I’ll repay your kindness, I promise. With your permission, I’ll start training your personal guard in Northern fighting skills. Then, if your father should make a move against you, you’ll have as much protection as possible.” And when I go away, she thought, at least you’ll still be defended.
“Lady, you have my heartfelt thanks.” Harihn faced her, his front of arrogance replaced by gratitude.
Aurian realized that he was very much afraid of his father —and very much alone. And now she intended to betray him— to win his trust and use what aid he could offer her, and then, as soon as it was expedient, to leave him. In that moment she hated herself. How far would the ripples of Miathan’s evil spread? Were they beginning to engulf her, too? Aurian forced a smile, but she was shuddering inwardly, despising herself for what she was doing. “Your Highness,” she said, “it will be my privilege to help you.” And may the’ Gods help me, she thought.
25
The Prisoners
The Nightrunners had made their home in a safe and secret honeycomb of caves, reached from the ocean via a tunnel where waves beat into a shadowed opening in the cliff. This entrance, with waters that were deep enough to float a ship, opened into a vast cavern, hollowed out aeons ago by the sea’s ceaseless pounding in the constricted space beneath the cliffs. A gently sloping beach of shingle narrowed as it curved round, to be lost in deep waters that lapped the sheer, sea-smoothed walls at the rear and opposite sides of the cave. Anchored in the pool were four small ships, their lines lean and swift, the figureheads at their prows carved and painted with skill and love in the shapes of legendary beasts. A cluster of smaller boats were moored by the beach, which sloped up to a broad shelf of flat rock, the wall behind it pierced with dark entrances to the maze of corridors and chambers where the smugglers dwelt.
The cavern was lit by lamps and torches fixed in brackets to the rock itself, or mounted on tall wooden poles planted firmly in the shingle. Their flickering light was picked up by glittering fragments of mica and fine veins of ore in the walls, and thrown back in splintered rainbow gleams that echoed the sparkle of tears in Zanna’s eyes.
She didn’t want to leave. Why, in three short months, this place had become her Home! They let me have a life here, Zanna justified herself, against the guilt that dogged her love of this place. Though Dulsina’s sister Remana had been so kind and welcoming, she had not tried to coddle Zanna as though she might break apart. In the secret world of the Nightrunners, everyone made themselves useful.
Zanna paused in the entrance to the massive cavern, assailed by memories of the day she had first arrived in this place. She had been weary and chilled to the bone—and not a little afraid. Despite Dulsina’s assurances, the reluctance of the smuggler crew to accept her had left her uncertain of her welcome in their hideaway. But from the moment Vannor’s daughter had stepped unsteadily down the springy gangplank with a whining, fretful Antor in her arms, Remana had been a fount of comfort and reassurance.
The tall, gray-haired woman, older and stouter than her sister, but with the same upright carriage, brisk manner, and shrewd, twinkling gray eyes, had taken Antor in one arm and put the other around the tired girl’s shoulders, cutting short Zanna’s attempt at an explanation with a flood of brisk and friendly chatter. “Never mind that, child—you look quite worn out! I don’t suppose these useless men even thought to feed you, did they? No? I thought not! Men! The only way to drive any sense into them is to hit them over the head with an oar. What? Dulsina gave you a letter for me? Wonders will never cease! I know it’s not easy to get messages to this place, but my sister is the worst correspondent . . . Here you are, my dear—the kitchen. We’ll get you fed and warm in no time . . .”
As she spoke, Remana had been leading the bemused Zanna through what had seemed, at the time, to be a maze of interconnecting caves and tunnels. At last they reached a low arched entrance at the end of a corridor, and passed into the warm, fragrant cavern that was the communal kitchen. In the Nightrunner community, even kitchen duty had its place. It was left to those unable to perform the more arduous tasks of survival—the old and the very young. In this way, everyone, even the children, contributed to the welfare of the close-knit group. A sense of belonging was fostered at a very early age. It was a good system, in Zanna’s opinion—better than that of the city, where the poor were bonded like slaves, and little children and folk too old to do manual work^begged in the stinking streets, or were forced to turn to crime in order to survive.
The kitchen was loud with chatter and brightly lit with many lamps, its smoke-stained walls glowing a soft red with the warm light of the cookfires. Even at this early hour, the place was filled with a businesslike bustle. A budding young girl, one of the goatherds who tended the small flock that grazed on the cliffs above, was pouring warm, fresh milk into cans that stood in an icy pool at the back of the cavern, where the sea penetrated through some subterranean chink in the rocks. A boy sat at the edge of one hearth, stirring a caldron of porridge. By its side steamed a kettle of fragrant tea, made from dried flowers and sea grass that grew at the top of the cliff. An old man with gnarled hands was gutting fish in a corner, and the fruits of his labors were baking on griddles at a nearby fire, supervised by his wife. One old woman was beating gulls’ eggs in a basin, watched hungrily by the small boy and girl who had climbed the sheer cliffs to collect them. The mouth-watering aroma of new bread filled the air.
Antor caused a sensation. Within seconds, the little boy had been taken over by a vociferous group of delighted old fisherwives, and was being bathed and fed, pampered and cos-setted and exclaimed over. Remana, having made sure that they were not neglecting the business of breakfast in their zeal, turned her attention to Zanna, seating her by the fire with a large bowl of porridge, a cup of the steaming tea, and a hunk of warm new bread and pungent goat’s-milk cheese. Pouring some tea for herself, she sat down on the other side of the hearth to peruse Dulsina’s letter while Zanna ate.